


Another day in Paradise

by cuulaiid



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, homeless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7634053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuulaiid/pseuds/cuulaiid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes rarely pays attention to the people that lay on the street that are not directly recommended to work in his homeless network. But tonight, under the pouring rain, there's something that pulls him towards the girl that's curled up in a ball right outside Baker Street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another day in Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Good day! This fic jumped from my brain in seconds after hearing Phill Collins' "Another day in paradise". I do hope you like it. It came to my mind as a one-shot and could be read as such, but I might decide to add another chapter if the plot bunny cooperates and the muses are by my side! Have fun and hear the song to get in the right mood.

* * *

 

The night over London felt heavier than usual, and to the consulting detective, it was just another day. To John however, it felt like a different thing, like something could happen in any moment now. He was saying something along the lines of " _...I have a gut feeling, something is going to happen_ " when he decided to ignore him completely and dismiss him, deleting anything that didn't seem of use. He would later try to revise if there was something important along the things that he said, but for now, he couldn't be bothered with the silly talk that used to come from the army doctor. That was actually one of the things that Sherlock hated about his friend, the fact that he seemed to be oblivious to logic, and kept on believing in superstitious things like that one. It was out of the realm of logic to think that we could feel things that were going to happen, besides, if that were the case, the lottery business would be completely ruined! It made him scoff, Watson sometimes was very smart, and other times he could be a complete idiot. Not that he wanted to elaborate on that, he was very fond of the army veteran and wanted his company for his cases, so insulting him because of it seemed redundant.

When they left the lab at Bart's he told him to head straight home because of that god damned gut feeling, but the detective felt a certain tension coiled within him and he wanted to walk to release some of it. John desisted and informed him that he would be staying at what's-her-name - _current companion, silly occupation, unimportant data_ \- for the night, so he should not count on him until the next day. In other times, being without company and feeling uneasy as he was, he might have been tempted to pick a 7% solution to change the fact that his mind seemed to be working overtime, making his head feel heavy and his thought process increased exponentially, and not in an useful way. The case had been particularly hard on him, he felt like he was missing a key piece and he couldn't quite pinpoint what that was exactly. The fact that they had actually caught the "bad guy" as Gavin liked to call the criminals had little effect on this, and was still going crazy with the idea that as usual, he was overlooking something. The walk was helping him regardless, and the cold and windy night was doing wonders to distract him. People seemed to be scurrying about, but he paid little mind to it.  

The reason why he was walking on this dark night without paying much attention to the sky was that sodding detail, that thing that seemed to be hovering on the very edge of his mind. He hated it and was trying to think of different outcomes for the data when the first drop decided to hit him on his brow, and he was still quite far from his destination, actually ten blocks and 15 meters away from home. He looked at the sky and wanted to scold himself. Of course, the feel of heaviness had to do with the fact that it was going to rain. Bloody hell, he was _really_ distracted. " _Get a grip, Holmes_ " muttered the detective as he pulled up his collar in makeshift protection from the elements. In less than 5 minutes he was under heavy droplets, cascading around him and with little to none refuge to turn. He could of course knock on someone's door, but it would require acting and he was not in the mood to do so. And he was still a few blocks away. " _Sodding weather_ ". 

By the time he was nearing 221B something caught his eye. There was a figure crouched under a very small piece of plastic. The person seemed to be shivering, and wet to the bone. As he neared the bundle, he started to deduce. " _Small frame. Long hair. Female then_ " he looked closely to the soiled clothes and his mind reeled " _Been on the street for a while. No shoes. Blisters on her feet, so can't walk to safety_ ".  He stopped in front of _her_ and decided that he could do what he did with the other homeless people he found on the streets of London: offer to help. Truth is, Sherlock Holmes rarely offered to aid someone on the streets without having been contacted first by someone else regarding the matter. The homeless network he had ran almost completely like a private club, where you would only be accepted if you meet certain requirements and were invited by another member that could vouch for you. But as she paid mind to the figure towering over her, he shot another string of deductions. " _Around my age. Only child. Studied... Veterinary? Insufficient data, requires questioning. Oh... Orphan_." He looked at her face for the first time and felt something akin to a pang on his... Chest? What the hell was happening?

Her eyes were big and brown, and her face was pale and dirty, with faint tear tracks where the dirt was slightly removed. The hands that were gripping the only protection she had against the weather were small and frail as the rest of her frame seemed to be, and under the bulk of dirty clothes he suspected she was small in frame. But the feel on his chest was something pulling him towards her. He was delusional of course, because how else could he be thinking of taking this woman home? But there he was, clearing his throat because his voice seemed to have escaped him completely. Was this pity? How horrid. 

-What's your name?-he asked caustically. 

-Wh-why... why do y-you want t-to k-kn-know?-she stuttered.

He couldn't pick if it was for the cold breeze and drops that were cascading around them, or if it was because of something else, if the dilatation of her pupils was something to go by. Under the pale light of the street lamps, he could not distinguish more from her eyes. They were red rimmed, but it wasn't because she had been using, there was something emotional. Maybe the reason why she was homeless in the first place. This homeless girl was proving to be troublesome and he had only seen her for less than 5 minutes. He scoffed and ignored her question.

-Do you want to change into something dry and eat?-she gulped audibly and let out a sound that was strangled, a mix of sob and disbelief. Then doubt settled on her gaze, she was suspicious of him. " _Good that she has a least some sense in her_ " he thought. He put his hands behind his back and straightened some more, she replicated his movement by straightening her spine from her crouching position.  

-W-why would you offer that?-she almost moaned. "Been fooled in the past. Disbelief. Good girl!"

-I'm Sherlock Holmes, consultor for NSY. I can show you my credentials.-he moved his hands towards his Belstaff, but she shook her head.

-W-why do you want to help me?-She wanted to be strong, but he was too good at his job.

He stared at her and her face betrayed whatever was on her mind. She wanted to accept, she needed to eat and have a decent bed, but he was able to see that she had been tricked in the past, disbelief was imprinted on her every gesture. She was soaked, dirty and hungry. And she had probably been in this state for quite a while, maybe someone else tried to take advantage of those facts.  

-I will not take advantage of you. Like I said, you can look at my credentials, I'm a consulting detective. Look, they are inside my pocket. 

-That doesn't matter, Mister Holmes. I want to know why you want to help me.-she eyed him with brown orbs and he was startled by the feel of those eyes on him. 

-I... I just want to.-He stated. Truth is, he didn't want to tell her that he didn't know why he wanted to help him. 

-I ca...-a thunder sounded hard against them and she folded herself closely. The rain started dripping a bit stronger. She was considering it. After too many heartbeats to his liking, she relented and smiled shyly at him.-I... Thank you.

-Stand up. I live in 221B Baker Street.-she stared at him and her face closed up again. There was something deeply embarrassing on her expression. He couldn't pinpoint what it was until she started talking. 

-Mister Holmes, I... I can't walk.-she conceded and stared at her feet. The skin was broken, and they were slightly swollen. " _Possible infection. Will need treatment_ ".

-It's alright.-And he offered his hand to her.

She looked at him with those big doe eyes and he was instantly unsure of what to do next. There was something about her that he found oddly familiar. If he were John, there would surely be some chatter about other lives and alternative universed, in which he worked closely with this woman. He shook those thoughts aside and stared directly at her. Commanding. Self assured. He was the leader here. When she managed to stand up she winced slightly and he swiftly took her on his arms, bridal style.

He felt the same pitiful pang on his chest when he felt the weight of her body on his. She was so skinny under all those baggy clothes. She was weak too, and frozen in the spot. Her body was stiff and she had not moved in too many seconds for his liking. He cleared his throat and started walking. The girl relaxed suddenly and scooted closer to his chest, probably looking for warmth. The night was indeed cool and while he took the long strided towards his threshold, he wondered for the first time in the night if John could actually be right about his... Premonitions. Indeed something huge happened. Sherlock Holmes was never this altruistic, acting like a normal compassionate human was always beyond him. But today odd occurred indeed. He'd have time to think of the probability of things later on. 

-...y Hooper.-she whispered.

-What?-he was too distracted trying to reach for his keys and opening the door to bother to hear her.

-Molly Hooper-she repeated with a small smile, that showed perfect white teeth " _That's odd_ ".-That's my name.

-Good to know-he indicated while he climbed the steps towards his apartment.

Maybe something would occur as a consequence of this. But he decided that regardless of what he thought, the choices were made the second he peered at himself in those eyes. There was something he couldn't decipher right away. He was to know and she was going to help him discover it, one way or the other. She was an enigma even when he could read her so easily. The girl was on his street, where some of his homeless network members would have informed him of her proximity to his home. That was strange, but then again Lestrade was actually going against these people, and kept on chasing them from place to place if they couldn't quite catch them in any wrongdoing. He was thinking of this when she spoke.

-I am a pathologist-she said with a sigh as he deposited her in the couch.

-WHAT?!-he all but screamed. 

-I was a Specialist Registrar at Barts-she said with a sad smile, lowering her gaze.

She... What?! His mind was reeling. The woman... Hooper, was indeed a mystery. Weird, bizarre and oddly appealing piece of uncertainty. The world was rarely lazy when it came to casual occurrences, but there she was when he was actually thinking of asking Mike Stamford to kick out the idiot that was working the pathologic post in the hospital. It was stupid to believe it was something meant to be or something alike. But she posed a puzzle, and he just knew that he had to solve this conundrum in order to sleep at night. 


End file.
